


King John

by TheStageManager



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Melida/Daan, Shakespeare, almost torture, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25621348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStageManager/pseuds/TheStageManager
Summary: When Qui-Gon arrives on Melida/Daan to rescue his padawan, discovers that he is far too late. Obi-Wan cannot be saved.Inspired by William Shakespeare’s King John.Rewritten.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 20
Kudos: 157





	King John

**Author's Note:**

> The King John AU that nobody asked for, now edited and with more words! 
> 
> Featuring Obi-Wan as Prince Arthur and Qui-Gon as Constance. 
> 
> Because, dammit, I would kill to see Qui-Gon do the “I am not mad, this hair I tear is mine” monologue.

_ Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs. _

_ Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes _

_ Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth. _

_... _

_ For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground _

_ And tell sad stories of the death of kings.  
_

\- Richard II

* * *

  
It is an act of desperation, calling his former master for help. Obi-Wan had made his choice very clear, when he had decided to stay with the Young: he had betrayed the Order and abandoned his life as a Jedi.

His desperate cry for help, like a mewling kitten searching for its mother, ought to go ignored. He had made his choice. He had no right to ask for such things. He is worthless, anyhow. He has failed in the highest degree. He ought to be dead. He ought to be killed.

“Please, Master... I cannot do this on my own. Cerasi is dead... Nield wants to return to war. I cannot-“ Obi-Wan swallows back the shame, the hopelessness., averting his eyes away from the stolen communicator in the palm of his hands. “I cannot fix this,”

“Then you have failed?” Qui-Gon asks, his tone neutral, his expression utterly unreadable and Obi-Wan merely nods.

Qui-Gon is silent and, for a long time, he remains perfectly still. Obi-Wan’s eyes slide shut. He knows what the answer will be. He knows what he deserves. He ought to be abandoned here, ought to be left to rot.

Nevertheless, Master Jinn, in his infinite kindness, agrees to come and rescue the boy—the fix the mistakes Obi-Wan had made, and negotiate the peace the boy had fought so hard for, and failed to achieve.

“I will come. Wait for me,” is all Jinn says, and the transmission ends.

Now, Obi-Wan waits. He waits for days, sleeping in makeshift shelter he has crafted from leaves and branches. He is rejected—Cerasi is dead and her blood is on his hands. The Young will not tolerate his presence in their camps.

The first few days are not difficult. He bides his time by meditating. Master Jinn said he was coming, Master Jinn told him to wait. So, Master Jinn must see something still worth while in Obi-Wan.

Truth be told, he wants nothing more than to return home, back to the Jedi temple. He wants to fling himself into his Master’s arms and weep. He wants to be a Jedi again. So he waits and meditates and dreams of Master Jinn and Master Tahl and Bant.

The days stretch on and on. At some point, he loses his stolen communicator in a stream. Obi-Wan doesn’t mourn the loss, as he doesn’t expect Master Jinn to attempt to reach him.

How long is the trip from Coruscant to Melida/Daan? Had it been days or weeks? Obi-Wan had thought that it had only been a few days, but now he begins to worry that perhaps he might be wrong.

The nights grow longer and the air cools off. Soon, the first week passes. But Obi-Wan has faith. Master Jinn said he was coming. Obi-Wan will wait.

It has been a long time since Obi-Wan has eaten. The hunger in a feral thing that lashes out against his stomach, sapping the energy from his bones. He knows he shouldn’t, but he is _so hungry..._ he begins to loiter in the forests on the outskirts of the Young territory. He sleeps the days away and sneaks into their bases at night, pilfering through their refuse piles for anything left uneaten.

He is hungry. He is tired.

Master Jinn said he would come, but Master Jinn has not yet arrived.

Obi-Wan must do what he can to survive until his Master comes for him.

A second week passes.

At some point, he is caught rummaging through the garbage bins and chased away like a diseased rat. They post guards around their trash at night, hoping to deter the reject Jedi from his thievery. He is, apparently, worth so little that even garbage is too great a luxury for him. Something deep and aching inside of him agrees.

Days bleed into weeks and the weeks go on and on. Obi-Wan spends his nights collecting berries and hunting wildlife with a spear he’d carved from a long, slender branch.

Where is Master Jinn? He said he would come.

A month passes.

Perhaps Obi-Wan was foolish to have believed him.

The hunger never leaves the young boy, always a constants dull ache that settles in the very marrow of his bones. Always, always, there is pain. He grows tired. He grows weak.

He sleeps through the days and sleeps through the nights as well. He doesn’t have the energy to hunt or fish—he’s never caught anything more than the occasional toad, anyways.

Then, one day, he is captured. Large hands tighten around his arms and pull him upright. They say things to him in a language he cannot comprehend. Perhaps he has grown to weary. Perhaps he has lived too long.

Master Jinn said he was coming. Perhaps his Master lied. It wouldn’t be the first time.

His captors are kind enough to give him food (or perhaps it is a venture of cruelty—prolonging his inevitable death) and toss him in a small room, very high up in a tower.

“Why am I here?” he asks. He expects to be tortured. He expects to die.

“The Young have broken the peace. They have captured our men, and we will ransom you in exchange for prisoners they hold hostage,”

Obi-Wan merely shakes his head, feeling emptier than he ever has before. “They will not trade with you. They will not come for me,”

But his captors do not believe him, and they leave him alone.

Only one man every comes to visit him—a poor fellow called Hubert, who is very kind to him and reminds him very much of Qui-Gon.

He spends his days sleeping and spends his nights by the window, dull eyes staring up at the moon and the stars, searching for something familiar among the endless sparks of dying light.

Hubert brings Obi-Wan his meals and Obi-Wan only picks at them, leaving them mostly untouched. It is ironic—now that he has access to food, the constant hunger has left him, leaving only a dull emptiness.

Hubert spends the nights beside the boy, trying to coax him into eating.

For a little while, it works.

A second month passes.

Hubert and Obi-Wan spend their nights together huddled near the window. Obi-Wan, under Hubert’s gentle eye, cleans his plate and tells stories of the stars and the Jedi knights.

“My Master said he would come for me,” he says one night. “But now I am beginning to believe that he lied,” he admits softly.

Hubert merely smiles and puts a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “He will come,” he promises. “Surely, he will come,”

And for the first time in many weeks, Obi-Wan feels a blinding spark of Hope.

-

The trip from Coruscant to Melida/Daan takes many weeks. By the time Qui-Gon lands, on the planet, it had been well over a month since his last transmission with Obi-Wan.

Many time, he had tried to contact the boy, only to receive no answer. He has tried, many times, to ignore the worry that coiled in his stomach, the regret over leaving the boy in such a volatile place, but the worry never goes away.

He spends his days pacing the ship and spends his nights deep in meditation, searching the stars and the Force for the boy he had lost.

He worries for Obi-Wan.

He feels great anxiety over their reunion. There are so many things he wants to say... so many things he wants to say but fears he should not. He has missed the boy terribly.

Obi-Wan as always been a hard worker and a beacon of light in the Force. He has always been kind and gentle and compassionate.

Qui-Gon has missed the boy’s dry wit and meticulous study habits. He has missed the boy’s quiet retorts and incessant sweet tooth—always pestering to be rewarded with cold cream or sweet rolls. He has missed the boy’s humming around the apartment and the inevitable noise that comes with having a young boy as a housemate.

When Qui-Gon arrives on Melida/Daan, he steps off of the ship and searches for his young charge—but the Young have not seen him in weeks.

Because he is a Jedi and establishing peace is his first priority, he begins to help them organize a treaty, starts gathering together the means to negotiate peace, but with every moment of free time he has, he searches for Obi-Wan.

He spends long days writing up treaties and speaking with delegates from the Young and the Elders, with tribesmen from both the Melida and the Daan, but during even longer nights he searching, asking questions, following leads, reaching out into the Force to try and reconnect with his padawan. But the Force is cruel and remains silent.

Day pass and weeks take shape. It has been two and a half months since he had last communicated with Obi-Wan.

Sometimes he hears rumors of the wayward padawan and his unfortunate fate—that he had been captured by one faction of another, that he had found a ship and escaped the planet, that he had starved to death alone in the woods, or, perhaps was eaten by a predator.

Qui-Gon cannot stand to listen to these rumors. He cannot abide the thought of harm befalling the boy, not when they are so close to reuniting.

So he holds fast to his hope and continues searching.

-

Life is full of disappointments. There comes a time when every child must learn that every Wishing Star is nothing more than a speck of old light, cast from an ancient, burning ball of fire that has long since grown cold.

Huberts comes to visit him more and more. He brings books and, during the days, Obi-Wan reads to him. And night, he points and the sky and teaches Hubert the names of those flickering old lights.

Obi-Wan still believes that Master Jinn is coming for him but, as one month becomes two, and two become three, the hope dies, slipping through his spread fingers like mud or wet sand, splattering against the ground and making a mess because _everything_ is a mess.

Some quiet voice in the back of Obi-Wan’s head assures him that _it’s alright_ if Master Jinn is gone, because Hubert _is here_ and he is so very kind.

But one day, Hubert comes bearing a note from the leaders of the Elders. Hubert is to put out his eyes. Hubert. His friend. His _only friend._

“Why?” Obi-Wan asks, unable to comprehend such horror.

“As a message to the Young,” Hubert says.

“And you will do it?” Obi-Wan asks, his voice quavering.

“I must.”

“But why!” Obi-Wan cries. “I have been good, I have been patient! I have done nothing to attempt to escape, I have been quiet and well-behaved, why must you do this?”

Huberts lowers his head. “Because it is my order,” he says. Then, there is a knocking and he calls out, “Come in!” and the two other men, one carrying a rope, and the other carrying a red-hot iron fire-poker, enter the room.

“Give me the iron and bind him,” Hubert says, his voice heavy with grief.

One of them hands Hubert the hot iron, and the other puts his heavy hands on Obi-Wan’s shoulders.

“Hubert please!” Obi-Wan cries, begging. “No! Don’t! Don’t bind me, please! I will be good! I will sit stone still,” the boy begins, voice trembling and he bows his head, willing the tears gathering in his eyes not to fall. “Please... I will sit as quiet as a lamb; I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word. Hubert, I promise you... please... send these men away and I will... I will forgive you for whatever torment you must put me through,”

Hubert is silent for a long time. But, eventually, he allows his eyes to close. “Be gone,” he says to the guards and, taking their order, they leave.

Obi-Wan is shaking. The traitorous tears are spilling down his cheeks.

“See? You are kind... you are compassionate. You don’t want to do this, I know you don’t! Please don’t do this!” He cries.

But Hubert merely shakes his head and puts his hand on Obi-Wan’s cheek, bracing him back as he readies the hot iron. “Come, boy, prepare yourself,”

Obi-Wan feels the cold resignation, the hopelessness, creep into his body. It is as if all light and hope and warmth have left him. He is alone here.

Master Jinn will not come for him.

“Is there no other way?” he asks softly.

“None but to lose your eyes,” Hubert says, his voice equally heavy with regret.

“Please, there must be another way, there must be something else!” Obi-Wan cries, his whole body tremoring with his final, last ditch desperation.

“Please, boy... you _promised_ to be still and silent. Hold your tongue,”

“Hubert, something! Anything! My tongue, cut out my tongue. Anything! But let me keep my eyes! Please!”

“This is the only way!”

“It cannot be so! You do not have the heart to do it, I know you do not! You have spent so many nights here with me. We have laughter together, you have told me the most wonderful stories, please! Do not betray me now! Hubert please!”

“Boy, I have my orders... please... we must get this over with, the iron grows cold,”

“Then let it grow cold!” Obi-Wan begs. “Please, for the love of the Maker, let it grow cold!”

“Boy, enough!” Hubert shouts and Obi-Wan stills. “Please... Please you must understand. They had wanted you dead and I... I-I begged them not to. I begged them to reconsider. You must understand! This is the only way!”

Obi-Wan allows his eyes to slip closed, and grits his teeth.

There is no hope left in this place.

Master Jinn is gone and nobody is looking for him.

Obi-Wan is not a Jedi. He will never be a Jedi. He chose to leave the Order to stay with the Young and bring them peace. But there is no peace to be found in this place. His failure is monumental.

He deserves this.

“Alright,” he says softly. “Go on. I am ready,”

He wills his eyes to snap back open and takes in the light for the last time. He swallows thickly, trying to ignore the pounding in his heart.

“You are certain?” Hubert asks softly, heartbroken. He does not want to do this.

“I-I am ready,” Obi-Wan whispers, his voice cracking with grief as the tears trickle freely down his face. “Please make it quick...”

Hubert swallows and brings the iron closer. Obi-Wan flinches and cries out: “W-Wait! Wait! First... your hand... please... give me your hand. I-I want... I-I want something to hold onto,”

Hubert wraps his hand around Obi-Wan’s and squeezes it tight. The boy clenches his jaw shut and doesn’t say a word.

For a long time, Hubert doesn’t move. Then, all at once, he drops the hot iron and kicks it aside. “No, no. Enough. Enough.” He says, his eyes sliding shut. “I cannot do it. I _cannot_ do it,”

Slowly, Hubert rises and steps away from the boy. “I must go,” he says. “They will have me shot for my failure. And you, boy, must escape as well. When they see that I have failed they will have you killed on the spot. You must be gone. Godspeed, boy. Godspeed,”

And then, Hubert is gone.

Obi-Wan, alone at last, flings himself into the dusty corner near the open window, opening his eyes as wide as he stares up at the stars, trying to take in every twinkling speck of their ancient lights.

In the distance, a single blaster shot rings out. Hubert is not coming back.

Obi-Wan begins to cry in earnest. Though he makes no sound, his whole body shakes violently, wracked with sobs. Gently, he presses his hands against his eyes and continues to weep—so relieved to still have his sight, so shaken by nearly having lost his eyes, so grief-wracked knowing that his only friend is gone.

He throws himself against the window and cries out, “Master! I’m here! Please, come find me!”

But his words only echo through the empty canyons.

Footsteps and voices echo from down the hall. Obi-Wan must be swift. They will kill him on sight, Hubert said. He must escape.

He cannot let Hubert’s sacrifice be in vain.

Quaking like a newborn deer, Obi-Wan climbs into the open windowsill and glances down at the ground below. This is his only means of escape. It is so terribly high up, but there is no other option.

Obi-Wan closes his eyes.

“Good ground,” he whispers. “Be pitiful and hurt me not. I am afraid... but I must do it. Perhaps... Master Qui-Gon... is out there somewhere. Perhaps... he will find me. Perhaps...”

He stops speaking. The breath catches in his throat.

Master Jinn is not looking. Master Jinn will never find him. He must be brave on his own now. He only has himself. Everybody else has left him behind.

Obi-Wan leans forward and prays the ground will be kind.

It is not.

\- - -

It is only a few hours later when Qui-Gon arrives at the tower, searching for the missing boy.

He has felt something in the Force, the first spark of _anything_ from Obi-Wan in weeks. There was pain and fear and resignation and then there was nothing, only silence.

So he had followed the feeling, ignoring the all-consuming emptiness it had left in its wake, to this place.

When he sees the boy’s bloodied, mangled body on the ground, the old master stops in his tracks, merely confused at first. The boy is so gaunt and pale, so twisted out of shape, Qui-Gon does not recognize him as the lively, hopeful padawan he had claimed on Bandomeer.

“Who lays there?” he calls out.

The Force offers no warning, no twisted trepidation. It is merely silent, observing, waiting to watch the terrible spectacle unfold.

Qui-Gon does not feel dread as he approaches, merely a benign irritation. “What, man, are you drunk? Who lays there?” he snaps, igniting his lightsaber to better glimpse the poor drunken fool who has fallen asleep on the rocks.

However, as the pale green glow falls over the bloody, marred face, the stars fall from their places and dissolve in the darkness of the void. Perhaps one of them catches fire as it drops from the heavens, but it carries no wish with it. It is, after all, nothing more that a forgotten, old light.

“Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon whispers as his lightsaber clatters to the ground.

The boy’s wide eyes are bright and unseeing, fixed on a far-away point that no living creature was ever designed to comprehend.

“Obi-Wan?” the master—the bereft father—repeats and lunges forward, cradling the cold, broken body in his arms. “Obi-Wan? It’s alright, I am here now. Look at me. You are safe. Obi-Wan _please..._ look at me, young one. It’s alright, I am here. You must _look at me!”_

But Obi-Wan does not look at his master. His eyes do not flicker and blink. Obi-Wan is not there anymore. Obi-Wan is far away, lost among the ancient lights.

Qui-Gon presses his forehead against the boy’s chest and weeps.


End file.
